Hound

by Tallulah Howarth

WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
My name was spat out of a laughing river.
It is lips of salt,
it is soaked in sunlight,
it is without god.

HOW OLD ARE YOU?
I am old enough.
You can count the tree-rings on my torso if you cut me
in half.

HOW IS YOUR HEART?
I wish you wouldn’t ask me that.
I never seem to know these days.
My heart is a diseased fruit, mellow to the touch.
Does that make sense?

WHY ARE YOU HERE TODAY?
I am toxic fallout. I am ample
love. I am loyalty of a dog.
I am here to find out what is wrong with me.

HOW DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?
Warily.